


Flummox and Ferhoodle

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [53]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5381414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>flummox: verb: ˈfləməks; perplex (someone) greatly; bewilder</p><p>mid 19th century: probably of dialect origin; compare with dialect flummock ‘to make untidy, confuse.’</p><p>ferhoodle: verb: fer-hood-l; to confuse or mix up</p><p>from the Pennsylvania German term verhuddle meaning "to tangle" and is related to the German word verhudeln meaning "to bungle, botch."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flummox and Ferhoodle

He knew John's routine. When there wasn't a case on, and he was scheduled at the clinic, the alarm would rattle on the table at exactly 6:01, Sherlock wasn't sure what the extra minute was for, (perhaps some day he would ask) he would sigh, roll over and place exactly one kiss behind Sherlock's left ear, then whisper,"loveyoumymadbeautifulman," and quietly exit the room.

Sherlock would count the steps to the loo, 'twothreefour," he'd stop at the mirror, take a piss, hum, then flush, wash his hands in that surgeonish way he had, then shower for precisely 12.7 minutes, check the mirror again, and brush his teeth (another 3 minutes).

Even with all this arcane knowledge of John's morning ablutions, the man never ceased to flummox and ferhoodle him. Was this routine entrenched from his days in the military, or did it start earlier in his life? The extra minute on the alarm, was that a phbbbbt to whatever created his approach to beginning his day?

He paused in his meanderings, and peeked under his lashes to watch John enter their bedroom. Their bedroom...when...how...did that happen...he watched him as he grabbed his clothes from his side of the dresser, all neatly pressed, organized by color, white, blue and the occasional splash of red, listened for that one shoulder roll he did every morning to pop his shoulder back together and sat up as he knew the 20 push ups would happen next, he couldn't take his eyes from the golden, remarkable man....

"Marry me."

John laughed. "Good morning, love."

"No. I'm serious. Marry me."

John finished his last push up (couldn't break routine if his life depended on it) and sat up, and leaned back against the bed, not daring to look at Sherlock.

"Why?" He whispered. "Why me?"

Sherlock slid out of bed and sat in front of him. "Because you are endlessly fascinating, even after knowing you as a friend for three years and now a few weeks as your lover, I still don't know all your answers, I don't even know how to form the questions yet...and, god, help me, I love you."

John looked up at him and shook his head gently, then wrapped his hands into the tangled disaster of Sherlock's curls and kissed him. "Yes, love. I will marry you, mymadbeautifulman. Yes."


End file.
